


The Sin of Winchester

by Baby1967Impala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Play, Bi-Curiosity, Black eyes (Supernatural), Blood and Gore, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Cute, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Dean Winchester Gives Oral Sex, Demon Deals, Demon Dean Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Gentle Dom Dean Winchester, M/M, My First Smut, Other, SPN - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, Winchester - Freeform, deanmon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28996983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baby1967Impala/pseuds/Baby1967Impala
Summary: Dean feels the power of the curse. The Mark of Cain embedded not only onto his skin but into his soul. But the mark doesn't just give Dean the urge to murder and slaughter, it gives him indescribable rage and powerful emotions that all connect to one angel.Dean must come to terms with his destiny as a Knight of Hell, and how his profound love for his angel changes him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jack Kline/Claire Novak, Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester
Comments: 28
Kudos: 65





	1. After Slaughter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Guys, this is my first Supernatural Smut.  
> I also want to say that this was my first time writing M/M anything but I really hope you enjoy :)

Dean felt the demon blood drip from his fingers.

Blue Dreamy eyes wide at the scene, scoping Dean up and down before meeting his eyes. "Dean?" 

Castiel's gruff voice barely shook Dean out of the trance, his chest heaving. The blade was so tight in his grip that he felt his skin stretching across his knuckles. He could feel the power of the Mark merging with the energy of the Blade, sending vibrations through his body. 

The air smelled like copper, demon blood. Dean lifted his green eyes to meet the angels and an instant shudder blazed through him. It was an angry fire, threatening to consume Dean's every thought. 

Castiel still looked at his friend with worry, he took a cautious step forward. Immediately, another compelling shudder shot through Dean and he held up a hand to stop him. "Don't," he growled. 

The angel was aware of Dean's condition...to some extent. He wasn't aware of the burning want suddenly swelling up inside his friend. 

"What is happening?" Castiel questioned, his eyes squinting. 

Dean's chest was still heaving, his heart threatening to burst. He still couldn't drop the Blade. "You need to go, Cas." 

Castiel's next step forward wasn't cautious, instead, it was resolute. "I will not leave you," he cast his eyes around, absorbing the sight of the butchered bodies surrounding them. "Not like this." 

If Dean wasn't using all of his energy not to spring on an unaware Cas, he might have noticed the sincere and warm tone behind his best friend's voice. Instead, he felt the fire continue to rise and he knew that if the angel didn't leave him be, he wouldn't be able to control himself...and he wouldn't, no. Couldn't hurt Castiel.

"Cas...please." It was barely words, little more than a whispered plea. Two sides of him raged. The Mark was doing something to him. The intense pressure building inside him was overpowering, Dean was ravenous. 

Of course like always, Cas would not go. The largest part of Dean despaired, his soul begging him to leave. But there was a small part of him that was celebrating that he wouldn't. This part was small but it was mighty. 

Dean spared a glance toward Baby, envisioning the idea of climbing inside and rushing off. The thought of being stuck driving all the way back to Lebanon like this made him wince with discomfort. There was no way that he was going to make it with the strain building in his jeans. 

His thought process took place in mere seconds, he wasn't capable of making Cas leave and he couldn't leave himself. Dean cleared his throat, trying to balance his voice. "One more night at the motel won't hurt," he said, turning away from Cas's captivating gaze. 

* * *

Dean's entire body was covered in sticky red. He could taste it on his tongue. Castiel had followed him inside, insisting that he stay through the night. 

He didn't blame him. If Sammy or Cas were acting like him, he would be taken over with worry. 

The thought of Cas watching him through the night sent another tremor through him. It clicked right then and there. The shudders started at his fingers, top of his head, and toes and shot straight to his dick. In that instant, it became unbearable. He couldn't look at Cas another second without having him. 

He needed to release, immediately. 

And he had the perfect excuse. He was drenched in blood. He needed a shower. 

Without glancing at the angel, Dean rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. 

Dean couldn't get out of his clothes fast enough. He was completely frantic, and hard. Cas hadn't even touched him. Dean turned the water as cold as it would go, expecting the icy rain would slow his heartbeat and put out the fire. 

Suddenly, Dean thought of Cas's pliant lips. He thought of biting them, melding them with his. He imagined pinning Cas against the wall, Cas moaning into his mouth as Dean tugged his hair aggressively, having the angel completely. 

Dean gripped himself and pulled. A bolt of pleasure exploded through him and a growl slipped between his teeth. Dean pressed his hand against the wall as he viciously stroked himself, he couldn't move his hand fast enough. 

He thought of Cas's mouth again, thinking about it wet and wanting, sucking his cock. That single thought alone sent him over the edge. A shuddering release sending Castiel's name from his mouth, and come into his hand. 

The fire still remained in him through the rest of his shower and it sprung up once again when he stepped out of the bathroom to find Cas drawing off his white button-up. 

Dean's voice caught in his throat, instant panic soaring through him. "W-what are you doing?" Dean said shakily. 

Cas squinted his eyes in confusion. "I have blood on me as well. These clothes are soiled." 

Dean couldn't stop himself from scanning his eyes from Cas's face to his chest and his abdomen, which looked smooth and supple, perfect for biting-- for marking. 

Realization spread through Cas's eyes and he looked toward the floor. "I will put them back on," he said, his voice breathing life back into Dean's hunger. 

"No," Dean responded instantly, his tone harsher than he had intended. Clenching his fists, he fought the heat rising back in his loins. He softened his tone, "Don't worry about it, man. I'm gonna get my four hours anyways." 

Cas simply nodded and sat in the rickety motel dining chair, staring straight at the bed which Dean now sat. Dean could feel his eyes burning a hole between his shoulder blades. Prideful, he stretched his arms above his head, flexing his shoulder and back muscles. He heard the chair squeak as Cas shifted. Dean was growing hard again knowing Cas was watching him. 

It took all of his being to only say, "Goodnight." 


	2. Undeniable

Once again Dean's dreams were filled with blood and slaughter. In this dream, it was a bar fight.   
Dean slammed his fist into the stranger's face with pure force, cracking his jaw out of place. The stranger's blood leaking onto the wooden floor. Dean smirked as his first collided with the man's nose, snapping bone. At the sight of the spurting blood, an inhuman growl escaped Dean's mouth.   
Instantly, he was kicked out of his dream; a tender hand resting on his left shoulder. He hadn’t woken up on his own.   
Dean had never been a peaceful sleeper, on the trip to Dodge City he had almost shot Jack. But there was instant ease knowing exactly who that touch belonged to. He didn’t even reach for his M1911 under his pillow.   
Even as he opened his eyes, Cas didn’t move his hand. It was placed right where it had been when he pulled him from perdition all those years ago. “Dean? Are you alright?” His voice was low, touched with concern.   
Like instinct, Dean looked up to meet Cas’s blue eyes and immediately regretted it. There it was again. That undeniable desire. Dean might have had the strength to withstand acting upon it but not enough to deny its existence.   
“You were making very strange noises during your slumber,” Cas stated.   
Dean faked a convincing grumble, “so?”   
His skin cooled as Cas slipped his hand from his bare shoulder. Dear fucking Lord, what is happening?  
Dean couldn’t bear to take his eyes off the angel…not yet. Even if it was a shocking sight— Cas was wearing a pair of Dean’s ratty old jeans and his favorite Led Zeppelin shirt.   
“What’s with my clothes?” Dean remarked as he threw back the covers, forcing himself to look away. Cas standing there in his clothes caught Dean’s breath in his throat and sent his heart fluttering… and he didn’t know why.   
Dean tightened and released his fist, swearing to himself that his knuckles felt sore.   
“I didn’t want to leave you alone. I will wash my clothes when we return home.” Cas said gingerly, but it was formal all at once.   
Dean cleared his throat, afraid that Cas would hear his heart racing. “Didn’t want to—what? Seriously?”   
It was unnerving to see Cas wearing something other than his trusty trench coat. Dean thought about sliding his hands under that Zeppelin shirt and caressing Cas’s skin. He swallowed, trying to think about anything else.   
“I didn’t feel comfortable leaving you alone considering what happened last night,” he said moving slightly closer to Dean, who rubbed his eyes sleepily.   
Of course, that’s what it was. Cas didn’t enjoy watching Dean sleep, he just was afraid that he would go on a murder bender. “Well, I’m a grown man Cas. I don’t need a babysitter,” Dean snapped.   
Cas sighed, this argument was predictable. “Your behavior last night proves otherwise.”  
“So what? killing demons is evil now?” Dean pushed, grabbing the closest shirt and pulling it over his head.   
“Killing? No. Butchering? Yes.” Cas replied, stepping closer, entering Dean’s personal space. “Those demons weren’t just dead, Dean. They were mutilated. You understand that their vessels felt everything you did?”   
Dean hadn’t thought about that, and even now that he did, there wasn’t a pang of regret. The only thing he did feel was Cas’s proximity— and he was close. He was so close that Dean could feel heat radiating from his body, and feel subtle hints of Castiel’s breath on his neck. He clenched his fists again, tight enough that he felt his nails digging into his palm. He had to restrain his hands or else he was going to fuck the angel right then and there.   
Jesus Christ, chill the fuck out man. Dean told his dick, which was now pressing hard against the fabric of his sweats. The only thing he could look at was the blue of Castiel’s eyes. Fuck, they were blue. It was a color that brought two feelings to Dean’s mind. Peace and hunger, and right now, they made Dean starving.   
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Cas questioned, tilting his head to the side.   
Dean turned his eyes to the floor, but not without his dick resisting. “Like what?”   
“Like I’m a Turducken Slammer from Biggerson’s.”   
That comparison made Dean chuckle if only he knew how hungry he was, but not for a sandwich…  
“What is amusing?”   
Dean shook his head, he raised his eyes back to Cas’s. Cas was looking at him, well not him. His lips. It was clear that he was thinking about something not appropriate for an angel’s thoughts.  
Dean licked his lips, he didn’t need to blame the Mark for the surge of want spreading through him. “Did you watch me sleep all night?” Dean whispered, closing more distance between them.   
“Of course, I always watch over you.”   
There was a certain sincerity to the statement. While in purgatory, Dean was borderline mad from lack of sleep. He couldn’t sleep, not if he wanted to keep breathing. That was until he found Cas. Every night, the angel guarded him while he slept, keeping him safe. Dean hadn’t realized that he never stopped, even after they both were safely back home.   
It was that slip of thought that Dean dropped his restraints. Half a second. But the want inside him took over, completely.   
Dean’s hand gripped the back of Castiel’s neck, tugging him close.   
“Dean wha—,” Cas gasped.  
Dean shut him up, crushing his lips against his. Wildfire spread through him and across his skin. There was little resistance from the angel. Pure ecstasy flooded through Dean as Cas’s lips melted into his. God, his mouth fit perfectly with his.   
Castiel’s entire body contoured to Dean’s, it was made to fit with his. Dean felt Cas’s fingers unfurled into his hair, leaving a fiery trails across his scalp.   
Suddenly, they were against the wall. Dean pressed Cas tightly against it. His cock twitched as he heard a little moan come from Cas. A sound he had never heard before, but instantly it was his favorite sound in all of existence.   
His hand traveled from the back of Cas’s neck to his hair. He was going to live out what he came to last night and it played out perfect.   
He forced his lips to separate from Castiel’s. He wanted to see his face.   
Castiel’s lips were plump and swollen. Wet and wanting, even better than Dean had imagined. His eyes were pleading, upset that Dean had stopped kissing him.   
Dean tugged his hair, exposing Cas’s neck. He drew his tongue from his collarbone to under his ear, making the angel shudder and whimper. But he didn’t just whimper, he whimpered his name.   
Dean growled, pressing his hips against Cas, eliciting a soft from his angel’s lips. Cas closed his eyes.   
The hunter pulled Cas’s hair again…harder. “Oh no. Keep those pretty eyes open when I’m looking at you.”   
Dean wanted to fuck him, right then, hard and raw against the wall while Cas wore his favorite shirt.   
Instead, he settled for sucking a sweet piece of skin on Cas’s neck, making Cas push his hips forward. He was hard too.   
He found his way back to Castiel’s mouth, invading it with his tongue. He would occasionally pulled back slightly and reveling in the feeling of Castiel moaning and breathing into his mouth, begging for more with his eyes.   
Dean ground his hips before palming Cas through his jeans. He had lots of ideas of what he wanted to do to his angel.   
Cas threw his head back against the wall, pushing his erection closer to Dean’s hand. Castiel’s response sent Dean into overdrive. Dean had never touched a man like this before, but he didn’t care. Besides Cas wasn’t a man. He was Dean’s angel.   
A screaming ringing sounded through the room, turning both men into statues. Dean let out a huff of pure annoyance. Dean bit Castiel’s bottom lip as he pulled away. “Don’t move.” He ordered, reluctantly turning away.   
Dean answered Sam’s call. “Yes?”   
“Where are you?”   
Dean glanced longingly at Castiel. “At the motel.”  
“Still? Is Cas with you?”  
“Yes.”   
“Jack hasn’t been home. He never came home last night.”   
The fire in Dean died. “What? Why did you let him go off on his own?”   
“I don’t let him do anything. He’s grown, Dean.”  
“No, he’s not Sam. He’s three years old.”   
The mention of Jack struck Cas out of his daze, dad-mode activated.   
Dean put Sam on speaker. “Cas is listening.”   
“Sam, where is Jack?” Cas said, his voice shaky and raspy.  
“Jesus Cas, did you just get done running a marathon?”  
“That is not of import. Sam, where is my son?” 


	3. Colliding Thoughts

The drive back to the bunker was awkward, to say the least, and Dean took a deep breath of relief as Baby slowed down as they approached home. Of course awkward didn’t cut it, this was more than that. Dean and Cas had never had this kind of tension between them. They had had their fair share of disagreements and strange moments, but never this.

Dean had basically jumped his best friend’s bones and they had been interrupted. They didn’t mention it to each other the whole four-hour drive home, maybe it was because their son was somewhere unknown… or maybe not.

Usually, the Bunker was a welcoming beacon. It was a haven after a tough hunt or another round of saving the world. But not this time. Dean and Cas did not have a sweet and caring Jack waiting to give them tight hugs and warm welcomes, and that broke Dean’s heart and it wrecked Castiel’s.

Dean could bullshit his way out of almost anything, that was a commonly known fact. But he couldn’t play off his anxiety over his missing son. That’s what Jack was to him, no matter how much he played it differently. Dean loved Jack, he would die for him without a second thought. He might not have shown it or said it, but he knew that Jack knew.

He also wasn’t all that great at co-parenting, despite his caretaking nature. It didn’t help that most of his parenting decisions were second-guessed since he took on the Mark of Cain to defeat Abadon, who was still alive and kicking, but not for lack of trying.

Sam was waiting for them in the library, his chestnut hair somehow in perfect condition, and his face lit up by the laptop screen. He didn’t look up as his brother and the angel wearily stepped down the staircase.

“Anything on the kid?” Dean asked, slamming his duffle on the map table. He did everything in his power not to make eye contact with Cas.

Sam then looked up, alerted by the abuse of the duffle bag. “Uh no. Wherever he is, he’s not using his powers.”

Dean slid into the seat opposite his brother, pulling down his flannel sleeves from his elbows. “How do you know?”

Sam pushed the screen of his laptop toward his brother. “There’s no sign of celestial activity—and considering how powerful Jack is, the slightest use of energy would emit into the environment somehow.”

Cas sits reluctantly beside Dean, angling his body away from him. He holds his breath, his body stiff. “Did he say where he intended to go?”

Nodding, Sam turned his body to face Castiel and his eyes show confusion but he doesn’t change the subject. “Uh yeah. He said something about meeting with some friends from town.”

Dean chuckles lightly. “The kid has friends?”

“What is funny about that Dean?” Cas questions harshly, glaring at him.

The strain between them was beginning to leak into the air around them.

Dean scoffed, still not willing to look at the angel. “Nothing, Cas.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, “What’s going on guys?”

Both Dean and Cas shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but for different reasons.

Dean’s brain was at war with its own thoughts. He knew that Jack could very well be in trouble but he still couldn’t get the thought of Castiel’s soft, flawless skin against his lips and the taste of him out of his mind. Dean dug his fingers into his thigh, trying to contain himself.

Just like instinct, he cut a glance toward the angel, and a spike of pure lust shot through him like a bullet from the colt. He forgot that Castiel was wearing his fucking clothes.

Cas did his eye squint and head tilt, something Dean had always found undeniably adorable. Now that he thought about it, everything about Cas was adorable.

Dean knew this wasn’t the time for this. Jack was fucking missing and all he could focus on was the thought of drilling into his angel, which of course filled him with immense guilt.

Castiel cleared his throat, obviously noticing the change in Dean’s behavior. “I will go wash my clothes.” He got up awkwardly, his knee brushing lightly against Dean’s. Dean froze, his entire body turned to stone—and his blood started to flowing, straight to the last place he wanted.

Dean dug his nails deeper into the fabric of his jeans to stop himself from following him. He doubted that Cas wanted him, especially now that Jack might be in trouble.

“Dean?” Sam whispered, his voice laced with concern.

“What?”

“What the hell is going on??” Sam asked, leaning forward…he was expected some sort of story.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know Sammy. I killed ten demons last night with the blade, Cas didn’t think I should make the drive after.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have helped you.”

“I didn’t need to. I had Cas.” Dean said, getting to his feet. He couldn’t talk about whatever was going on with him, whatever the Mark was doing to him. Whatever this was, it was the Mark and it would go away the moment it got off his arm. “Did you track Jack’s phone? He always has that thing with him.”

“There’s no signal, either it’s in the bunker and I can’t track it or it’s no longer online.”

“What do you mean ‘no longer online’?” Dean asked, running his hand through his hair. It was a response to anxiety. He had to escape Sam before he noticed his growing bulge. He was not going to have that conversation.

Sam closed the laptop, “I mean someone destroyed it, someone, who knows that we would try to track it.”

Dean’s stomach dropped. “Okay…Do you have any leads? I mean where the hell could have the kid went?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Dean—he wouldn’t destroy his own phone…”

“Sam. Nobody took Jack. Okay?” Dean stated, turning his back, getting ready to head to the showers.

“Seriously Dean. You aren’t going to brush this off. Jack could be in trouble, someone could be hurting him.”

Dean knew that Sam was right but he wasn’t going to spiral alongside him. “Who would have the juice to kidnap Jack and keep him? No one. Problem solved.”

“Abadon.”

The name ignited a fire-filled rage inside Dean, originating from the Mark. He could hear the blade calling to him silently, seducing him to pick it up, to coat it in blood.

“Okay. Let’s find the bitch.”


	4. Like Stars

Cas slid the tan coat over his shoulders. He turned to face the mirror, his tie was crooked. Years on earth and he still struggling to tie a simple tie. It felt wrong not wearing his blue tie, it was like leaving the house without pants.

His fingers fumbled attempting to do it himself but it was a fruitless mission. He thought about asking Sam for a hand but he didn’t want to bother him while he searched for signs of Jack. The solution was so obvious, Dean would help him without asking any questions. Of course, that was before the confusing incident at the motel.

That’s what it was. Confusing. Cas hadfelt those feelings before, but never outside his own fantasy. He wasn’t a stranger to sexual activity, he had slept with April… before Dean stabbed her. His time with April was unclear and forced. He had slept with her because the opportunity presented itself. But at the motel, it was something entirely different.

The exact second Dean’s lips touched his, everything else went away. It was as natural as using his wings. Dean’s hands roaming him was a new sensation and it thoughtlessly became Castiel’s most treasured experience and he was dying to be touched again, despite what his conscious was telling him.

Castiel wrapped his knuckles on the door to Dean’s room. “Dean?” He murmured, slowly pushing the door open.

“Hey—,” Dean responded without looking toward the door.

As soon as Cas caught sight of the older Winchester, the breath was knocked out of him. Dean wasn’t wearing a shirt, his blue jeans hung loosely from his hips. His hair was damp and messy. Small water droplets clung and ran down his toned chest and abdomen. All Cas wanted to do wasto place his hand on Dean’s shoulder, where it belonged.

He had seen him shirtless before, the sight was not a new one. But this time, Cas had a hard time looking away, despite the blood rushing to his groin.

Still, he had to force himself to speak. “I need help.”

Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas’s, worry filled them. “What’s wrong?”

Cas sheepishly held up his rumpled tie. “I cannot tie the tie.”

Dean gestured for Cas to stand in front of him, “Nothing new. It’s nice to see you all suited up.” He wrapped the tie around Castiel’s neck, and Cas felt his breath on his face, spearmint toothpaste. “Even though, I kinda dug you in my clothes.”

“I had no choice, you got demon blood on my clothes.” Cas whispered, Dean was close enough he didn’t need to use full volume.

“Sorry about that.” Dean said, the tip of his finger brushing against the soft skin of Cas’s neck, making the angel shiver.

Cas cleared his throat in an attempt to pull himself back together. “Where is the blade Dean? Sam needs to return it to the safe.”

Cas saw Dean clench his jaw and heard his teeth grind in response. “Cas—I’m not talking about this.”

Dean finished with the tie and went to remove his hand but Cas gripped his wrist. “You are going to talk about it, whether you like it or not.”

The sides of Dean’s mouth twitched, annoyance most likely. “Don’t tempt me, Castiel.” Dean growled, his grip on the tie tightening.

His name rolled so smoothly off Dean’s tongue. It was rare that he said it in full. It drove him mad. Cas couldn’t move his hand from Dean’s wrist. Thatdesire he felt in the motel surged through him. He searched Dean’s angry green eyes, which were blazing like green inferno.

“I don’t understand-,” Cas started but a growl from Dean cut him off.

“Yes, you do.” Dean scolded before hauling Cas to him using his tie.

The tension broke as Cas’s lips joined Dean’s. It was a thoughtless process. The way his body crashed against Dean’s and his hands finding their way to Dean’s hair, desperately running his fingers through it. Dean’s other hand pressed against the small of his back, pressing him even closer.

Fire, it felt like fire. Cas was on fire, and he was letting himself burn—and he didn’t care.

Dean’s mouth was rough and starved, his tongue invaded meeting with his. Cas let out a barely audible moan as Dean rolled his hips against him. He could feel it again; the growing ache between his legs.

Dean whispered something to himself in response. Dean shifted their stance, the back of Cas’s knees pressed against the end of Dean’s bed. Dean’s fingers shoved the trench coat from his body, wrapping his hands around the base of his neck, nibbling hungrily on Cas’s neck. Dean no longer forced him close with the tie, but Cas didn’t move away.

“Dean…” Cas moaned lightly as Dean moved to the buttons on his white shirt. Dean replied by placing his mouth on his again, biting down on his bottom lip.

Cas could tell that Dean wasn’t thinking either. He was just as lost in the angel as Cas was lost in him.

The mattress gave in as Dean eased Cas onto it. Dean’s lips still moving in sync with his, he splayed his hands across Cas’s bare chest. Dean’s hands were calloused and warm, an instant comfort.

Cas found himself moving to meet Dean’s touch, unable to breathe without it. This was better than any scenario he had thought of, it was more than Cas has imagined. Dean’s touch was greater than he ever thought possible.

Every fear, worry, and panic was silenced by Dean’s skin against his. Dean’s deep and melting kisses eased Castiel’s pain. Dean was home.

He sank deeper into his daze as Dean ground his hardness against his, his mouth opening to let out a whimper.

Dean gave a grunt of triumph, leaning his lips near Cas’s ear. “Let me have you.”

Cas didn’t entirely know what he meant, but he nodded franticly anyways. “You already have me,” he whispered back, his voice soft but breaking.

Dean detached his lips from Cas’s and Cas gave a desperate whimper. Dean’s hands were on the waist of Cas’s pants, tugging them down his legs. The friction of the fabric shot waves through him that barely eased the ache.

He bit down hard on his lip to stop himself from talking to Dean as his boxers slid down his thighs. He kept his gaze straight up toward the ceiling, wandering what Dean was planning.

Then he felt Dean’s lips on his cock, and he couldn’t help but buck his hips forward and a grating moan escaping his mouth. Dean’s mouth was wet and warm, like silk against him. Lightning bolts of pleasure swelled inside him.

He was desperate to touch Dean, he scrambled to find Dean, his hands landing in his stilldamp hair. Dean’s mouth moved up and down, his cheeks hollowing out. He swirled his tongue across the tip and Cas arched his back, an overwhelming feeling beginning to build.

An intense warmth began to grow him his belly, making him arch and moan. His hands fisting Dean’s hair, unable to let go.

Dean’s hands gripped his thighs tightly while he licked and sucked ferociously, Cas begging him not to stop.

“Dean—I-,” Cas cried out, his entire being spasming as he reached his end. The wave of pure ecstasy washing over him seemed never ending, he arched his back.

Darkness cast over them as the light overhead burst, the glass falling like stars.


	5. Kiss Your Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please listen to HOLD ON ACOUSTIC) BY CHORD OVERSTREET

Dean felt pure bliss as the shattered glass rained down on them, his angel shuddering beneath him. Time slowed to nothing, Cas singing his name. That moment he realized something, his Mark wasn’t pulsing or craving anything.

The warmth and peace he felt with Cas right then wasn’t the curse, it was being with Cas. The harmony that seemed so easy between them had come to a head, finally.

Whenever Dean was touching Cas, the raging want and fear inside him faded to background noise and Dean never wanted to stop touching him. Warmth swelled in his chest feeling Cas’s fingers tangle in his hair as he came down from his high.

His entire body turned to ice when Castiel abruptly pulled his hands from him, his body going rigid like ice water had been dumped on him.

He couldn’t see Cas’s face as he climbed up the bed, closer to his face. Glass shards cutting into his bare skin. He didn’t care.“Cas?” He said his angel’s name, his voice laced with anxiety.

Cas was motionless, he waited a long moment before answering. “Jack prayed to me. I know where he is.” 

* * *

  
“Cas. Stop.” Dean barked, sticking his M1911 in the waistband of his jeans. Cas was acting crazy, desperate.

The angel spun on his heels, his forehead lined with stress. “What Dean? Jack is in danger.”

Sam, like always, was trying to de-escalate the situation. Dean and Cas’s arguing voices spread from the map room to his room. “We know that. But this isn’t the kind of battle we go in guns blazing.”

Dean could read the pure fear in Cas’s pain-riddled eyes, he felt it too. But Dean felt much more than fear. He felt unmatched rage. He was even more eager to gut Abadon—to feel her blood stain his hands… and his soul. He understood that that feeling was coming from the Mark but that didn’t matter to him. She was going to die for taking Jack.

“Cas, this is a trap. We can’t save Jack if we are dead.” Dean said, sliding to his side, fighting every urge to hold his face in his hands, to soothe the pain however he could. His soul was cracking witnessing Castiel’s misery.

Almost as if Cas read his thoughts, a softness entered his gaze, like he wanted Dean to. “What do you want me to do?” He asked, his voice struggling to stay together.

Dean sucked in a deep breath of relief. “Trust me, please Cas.”

Cas nodded, resting his hand briefly on the hunter’s arm. 

* * *

Abadon was keeping Jack at a secluded barn outside a small obsolete town in Kansas. The only sound was Baby’s purrs as the boys raced to rescue their son.

No one was doubting Jack’s intentions but his prayer seemed too good to be true. If he could have prayed at any time, why did he wait so long?

Unusual as it was, Dean let Sam drive. He couldn’t reign in his eyes, he couldn’t go more than five seconds without sending checking looks at Cas. They didn’t have time for Dean to worry about hauling ass _and_ obsessively worrying about Cas.

Even worse, Dean could feel the First Blade in the Impala with them, even though it was wrapped safely inside Cas’s trench coat. It wasn’t just calling out to him, Dean could physically feel its presence, and it took everything not to hold it in his hands. He was getting worse.

But he couldn’t worry about himself, Jack needed him and so did Cas.

Cas had said that Jack’s prayer was short, just that he was with Abadon and in the barn. Dean was so close to what he had wanted since he took the burden of the Mark, killing Abadon.

They were rolling with the idea that Abadon knew they were coming. They didn’t bother parking Baby a mile away. Sam pulled on to the weed-infested gravel outside the ramshackle barn.

Dean took no time getting out, opening the door for Cas as he headed to the trunk. He didn’t bother asking for the Blade, no one would let him have it until the last second. To be honest, there wasn’t anything in the trunk that would come in handy in a fight against Abadon. The demon knife was useless against her and the guns might as well have been fake. Still, he passed a sawed-off to Sam and a shining angel blade to the angel.

Dean gave a knowing look to Cas, holding out his hand. “It’s time, Cas.”

Dean’s arm filled with flames as Cas pulled the blade from his coat and set it gently in his hand. Surges of calm and power radiated from the Mark and touched Dean’s entire being.

He had to take a few breaths. His eyes never left Cas’s, they kept him grounded. “I’m good,” he whispered.

Cas looked at Dean wearily and an ache rippled through Dean’s heart. Abadon putting Cas through this only fanned the fire.

Maybe it was the Mark, but Dean was ready. He was going to kill Abadon…even if it killed him.

There was no point in being cautious, Dean gathered air inside his lungs. It only took one kick and the boarded doors to the barn burst open with a splintering crack.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a demon wearing a black suit rush him, its arms stretching to take the blade. Dean steered to the side, grabbing the collar of its suit, shoving it down on his rising knee. Dean’s other hand shoved the Blade deep into its back.

Straight ahead was Abadon, both hands resting on Jack’s shoulders from behind. Not a trace of fear in her expression. Jack’s head was limp to the side, he wasn’t conscious.

Dean didn’t worry about his brother, he couldn’t let himself care about that. This was his shot.

He took wide strides toward Abadon, his grip tight as ever on the Blade. He could already feel his blade slicing into her.

Abadon patted Jack’s cheek tenderly, her red nails stark in contrast against his pale skin. “Hello, lover,” she purred, her voice laced with seduction. “What a beautiful son you have. But frankly, I don’t see the resemblance.” She traced a single nail along his cheek, drawing a line of blood. “He doesn’t have your pretty green eyes.”

Dean’s chest heaved with rage, he was itching to drive his blade through her heart. “You want to die talking about my eyes?” Dean mocked, taking another confident step closer.

He wasn’t oblivious to her immediate proximity to Jack but he knew she couldn’t hurt him, not really.

Like she had read his thoughts, she dug her nail deeper into his cheek, blood streaming from the wound. “I can’t kill a Nephilim. I already figured that out, oh but I did love to try,” she played a mischievous smile, “Of course, that was before I took his Grace…”

“No!” The word didn’t come from Dean’s mouth, it came from Cas’s—who was sprinting toward Abadon with only an angel blade.

The confidence inside Dean shattered, his mission shifting from murdering Abadon to saving Cas.

“CAS DON’T!” He shouted, reaching his closest handout, dropping the blade in the process. His fingers caught the belt of his trench coat. The tug of fabric didn’t stop Cas. The tan strip slipped from the coat and went limp in Dean’s hand.

Arms wrapped around Dean’s shoulders, it wasn’t familiar or comforting. The stranger forced Dean to his knees. He fought with every muscle and strength he had, begging for the blade to be in his hand.

He wasn’t going to let this happen, not to Cas. Abadon was going to slaughter Cas and she was going to make Dean watch. Uncontrollable fury filled him, barely winning against the despair of what he would witness if he lost.

Everything happened in a blur, but Dean felt every second of it. Cas approached Abadon as Dean fruitlessly fought his restraints. Dean watched as Abadon stopped the angel in his tracks, anguish contorting in his blue eyes. The tip of her boot slammed into the underneath of Cas’s jaw, blood spurting on the hay-covered floor.

Dean shouted, cursing and swearing. His entire being willing the blade to be in his hand again, but not for the sake of the Mark. All Dean could think is “anyone but him”.

Cas got to his feet, the angel blade sharp and dangerous. Dangerous to anyone but the enemy in front of him. Abadon gave a mocking chuckle before smashing her fist into his cheek, a loud crack reverberating through the air, sending Cas to his knees. Blood leaking from his nose and mouth, but he wasn’t done fighting. He didn’t get the chance to get to his feet before Abadon struck him again, harder, again, again, and again.

She tried to pull the angel blade from his hand but he wouldn’t let go. So she broke his fingers.

She let out a sinister laugh before sending the angel blade toward Castiel’s heart.

The sound that escaped Dean was the embodiment of agony.

The angel blade stopped mid-air, that’s all Dean needed. That exact second, the blade slid across the floor and rested in Dean’s palm. The power of the bond, feeding into his pain and wrath. In one simple shift of his shoulders, he was free from the grip of the restraints.

Dean was on Abadon before she could register her own fate. She stuck her hand out, thinking her demon mojo was going to save her.

Dean kicked her legs out from under her, there was no uncontrollable need anymore. He was calm.

His Blade drove straight through her chest, her demon energy crackling and fading, “Don’t,” he pushed the blade deeper, “touch him.” He growled, pushing the first blade into her to the hilt.

He dragged the blade slowly from her body, letting her fall lifelessly to the ground.

But the sound of clapping stopped him from turning to rescue his angel.

“It’s nice to see the blade be put to good use, Dean.”

Cain.

The father of murder had been the one holding him before, and he rolled up his sleeves in preparation for a fight. “Kiss your angel goodbye, boy.” Cain advised, calm and patient.

 _This is it,_ Dean thought to himself. _I’m going to die._

Dean knew very well this would be his last chance to look into Castiel’s sky blue eyes, his last chance to feel him. He wasn’t going to pass it up, damn his pride.

He choked back sobs as he kneeled down next to his bleeding angel. He cupped his cheek in his palm, absorbing the heat from his skin. It was wet, Cas was crying.

“Don’t cry, Cas. I don’t want my last time I look into your eyes, they’re filled with tears,” he brokenly whispered.

Castiel shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Dean—don’t. I can’t live witho—,”

Dean shushed him, smiling lightly. “You have to. You have to take care of Jack and Sammy for me.”

Dean placed his hand on the back of Cas’s neck, pulling him close. He rested his forehead against his angel’s, looking deeply into his eyes. Agony and peaceful acceptance washing over him.

“I love you,” Dean whispered before pressing his lips against his angel’s. It wasn’t lust-filled, it wasn’t rushed. He felt nothing but simply bliss as his lips moved against his, their tears mixing on their cheeks. This was goodbye.

Dean pulled away, despite the despair taking root in his heart, “I love you, Cas.” He whispered again, his voice fracturing. He kissed Cas’s forehead tenderly before forcing himself to his feet.

He searched the space for his brother, who was staring at him from the wall he had been slammed into. His eyes scared, like a child’s. Dean could only offer a smile and a knowing nod. He didn’t need words to say goodbye to his baby brother.

Dean ruffled Jack’s hair one last time before stepping toward his death.


	6. What He Deserves

Dean tried not to think of the alarmed look in Castiel’s eyes as he kneeled to him. He had let the words slip from his tongue without a single regret, even if it was sudden. Cas’s beautiful eyes were filled with tears, it reminded Dean of light rain in the middle of July. He could have stared into those eyes forever, he wanted to, but he couldn’t. His death was waiting. 

Depressing as it was, it would be a relief to die—knowing that he would never hurt another person. He hoped his family would be okay. Sam would hurt for a while, but eventually, he would move on. But Cas’s words repeated in the back of his mind, even though he never finished the sentence.  _ I can’t live without you. _ Those words were the only thing tempting Dean to hesitate but he couldn’t let them stop him. 

Jack’s hair was soft and fluffy under Dean’s fingers and he couldn’t help but smile lightly. He was glad that Jack wasn’t awake to watch him die. The kid didn’t need any more trauma. 

Facing Cain had always been inevitable, since the moment Dean received the Mark. Cain had told him this time would come and Dean had accepted that. 

Dean tightened his grip on the first blade, despite his lethal situation, his heart and thoughts were calm. It could have been him, or the blade— didn’t matter. 

Cain wasn’t unarmed, a sharp silver blade slides out from his belt. Dean wasn’t watching anything but his face. His expression wasn’t sinister like Abadon’s, it was conflicted. He knew that deep down Cain didn’t truly want to hurt anyone but his nature gave him no choice. 

Dean didn’t dare a glance at Sam, even though he could feel his eyes burning a hole in him. He couldn’t do it. 

“I admire your tranquility, Dean,” Cain said, shifting to his left. He was going to circle Dean. “I’m sorry that we have to do this.”

He wasn’t lying. Neither of them wanted this. “I know,” Dean responded, following Cain’s lead. 

“I’m going to do you one last favor Dean,” Cain stated, his voice was true. Dean furrowed his brows but Cain’s eyes were focused behind him, “You’re family doesn’t need to see this.” Cain simply snapped his fingers, a small piece inside Dean broke. What had he done?

Dean spun on his heels, unable to help himself. Jack, Cas, and Sam were gone. Cain spoke before he could. “They are alive and well. They are safe outside in the car.” 

A wave of relief washed over Dean but it was interrupted by a striking pain on the back of his skull. The pain vibrated through his entire body, almost doubling him over. 

Cain’s bare fist connected with his jaw as he turned to face him, blood spraying from his mouth. Dean didn’t hear a crack so he figured it wasn’t broken despite the intense pain. His eyesight blurred, he quickly closed his eyes and opened them; trying to blink away the pain. 

He took a swing at Cain, who merely dodged to the left. There was a smile on his face. “I know that’s not your best, Dean.” Dean only grunted before thrusting his blade toward Cain’s middle, who swiped it away without looking. “I’ve seen you slaughter demons in my kitchen without breaking a sweat.” 

“Those demons weren’t the father of murder.” Dean hissed, not in anger but pain. It hurt to move his jaw. 

Cain nodded, still not convinced. “I know you walked into this fight, knowing you are going to die. I just wish you’d fight a little harder,” Cain swung his arm, punching his across Dean’s cheek, his knuckles came away bloody. “Of course I could motivate you,” Dean barely recovered before Cain struck him again. “If you won’t fight for yourself, you’ll fight for  _ your  _ angel.” 

His first spike of rage hit him, “Don’t—,” he growled, clutched the blade again. He felt his blood heat up at the thought of driving it through Cain. 

“I know all about your devotion to that fallen angel, Dean. I saw it when I gave you the Mark. I heard your tortured scream when Abadon was going to kill him. I made that sound once. Colette wasn’t as lucky as Castiel.” 

Dean attempted to land a blow to Cain’s stomach, pain shot up his arm as Cain twisted it gruesomely, his shoulder popping. “And it’s because I understand, that I will spare him. I don’t hate you, Dean. I pity you.”

As Cain twisted his arm, the blade slide out of his grip. Instantly, the calm made way for despair. “What?” Dean’s voice was raspy, broken. 

“The Mark only fueled one desire for me. That need wasn’t a secret to me. I was a killer before the Mark. But you— you weren’t even aware of your longing before the Mark.” Cain planted his knee into Dean’s ribs, stabbing pain flooded through him. Dean dropped to the ground, pain searing through him.

Dean looked up, beaten, bloody, and confused. “You think murder is the only hunger the Mark ignites? The Mark doesn’t create any lusts. It only amplifies them. It’s not the killing that pains you, Dean. It’s the fear that in time… you won’t love Castiel. You’re terrified of being even less worthy of him.”

Cain slid his finger over the edge of the silver blade, his eyes meeting Dean’s, pity and emotion in them. “You’d rather die than become something he doesn’t recognize.” 

Dean didn’t even know he was crying until a blood tinted drop hit the floor. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cain crouched beside Dean, Dean’s blood lightly spatter across his white shirt. “Of course you didn’t know that no matter how destructive, how murderous you became, no matter how innocents you killed, Castiel would stay with you—hoping…praying, that you would come back to him. Even if it took centuries.”

Dean tried to sit up, pain shooting through him. He clenched his teeth, he was going to face his death with some dignity. “Cas doesn’t deserve to watch me destroy the world,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Cain didn’t touch him, he squinted his eyes. “But he deserves to live on for eternity without you…even after he told you he can’t?” 

Dean got to his feet, without a single rejection from Cain. This was it, he had made his final decision… “He has to,” Dean said, thinking once last time about Cas’s skin on his, how warm and perfect it was… his eyes like the sky. 

“You’re right.” 

Cain thrust his silver blade straight through Dean without hesitation. 


	7. Prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey just a fair warning: This chapter is a bit shorter and has almost no dialogue but its a necessary chapter... promise :)  
> More coming soon!!!!!!!!
> 
> for updates on progress, check me out on Tumblr at https://baby1967impala.tumblr.com/

The bunker was quiet. The only sound Cas could hear was his weak breathing, building up a dam to hold back cries. He couldn’t take his eyes off Dean’s lifeless body laid out on his bed. Jack and Sam had already gone to their own rooms…there had been an argument surrounding giving Dean a hunter’s funeral. He wasn’t going to let that happen. What burns stays dead and Dean wasn’t going to stay dead.

Castiel sat beside Dean’s body all night.

* * *

Cas had been the one to find him. A pool of blood spreading under his body, his skin colorless. He had bled to death—alone. The thought was enough to rip his heart apart.

He had much to think about during that night. Dean had told him he loved him…and then kissed him. Of course, they had kissed before but this one was completely different than the ones before. It was tender, Dean had meant it as the ultimate goodbye. Cas wanted to tell him back but his throat was closed shut, even though his entire being was screaming for him to open his mouth. Those three words had never been told to Cas, not by Dean. 

He was confused, but something about this ‘confession’ broke Castiel’s heart. It was true evidence that Dean was hopeless. He had bared his deepest secret because he was going to die and wouldn’t have to face the consequences for his admittance. But fuck, he was going to explain himself, even if Cas had to lay siege Heaven to drag him back to Earth.

So Castiel prayed. Not to god, not to cosmic forces—but to Dean.

He knew he wouldn’t receive it, but he didn’t care.

Castiel told him about his beginning, before becoming an angel. When he was a speck of Grace when he was first created. How he was shaped for a specific purpose. He wasn’t alone in this creation. Dean was there too. He had nobody or physical form. He was nothing but a blinding and bare soul. They were created together, their destinies bonded beyond cosmic interference. He told him of his thousands of millennia waiting for Dean to be born, finally beginning his mission. God had intended Dean to break the first seal and no matter which road was taken…Castiel would always grip Dean tight and raise him from perdition—that’s what he was created for. Castiel liked to believe they were made for each other in every way.

The angel told him about how he rebuilt Dean completely. How he mended his soul and body back to life. Healing Dean’s soul took more than effort. It took sacrifice. Dean’s body couldn’t withstand his revived soul, so Castiel,as he laid a hand on him in Hell, he cut away a piece of his Grace and bound it to Dean’s soul. But something went wrong, Castiel walked away with a sliver of Dean’s soul. And that small piece of Dean grew inside him, giving him emotion…giving him everything.

That simple sacrifice left an eternal mark on Dean. Yes, there was the handprint on his shoulder but it was also on his soul and the moment Castiel touched him he knew that Dean would become everything… and he did, but Cas left out that particular part.

Castiel couldn’t finish his prayer, not really. He was incapable of truly saying goodbye to Dean, not forever. He could never see the luminous green of his eyes again and Cas had to live forever knowing that—and he couldn’t stand it. He thought briefly about sliding his angel blade into his heart and going peacefully but he couldn’t. Dean would never forgive him and he couldn’t leave Jack, no matter his pain. And he was in pain.

He had never felt true grief, despair. Even when Jack died, he had a sense that it wasn’t over for his son. But with Dean, he felt nothing like that. There was no reason for Dean to return, besides for selfish reasons. Castiel even doubted bringing him back, what if he was finally at peace like he deserved?

Something moved to his right, at least he thought but when he snapped his head to look, everything was still. He was imagining things, Sam and Jack were sleeping. The only light was the one next to Dean’s bed…Castiel had broken the overhead light—he couldn’t finish the thought, not without dying inside.

The physical aspect of their relationship was _very_ new but its absolute absence burned a hole through Castiel. He wished he had savored it more. He wished he had kissed Dean millions of times, he wished he could go back and stop Dean from running after him. Dean deserved to live more than he did.

His thoughts strayed all over, covering his thousands of years but all thoughts connected back to Dean. Of course, they did; he was everything.

But then he saw the movement again and he caught it. Dean’s fingers were curling into the blanket beneath him. Castiel’s entire being stopped cold. He was already losing his mind.

Still, he couldn’t stop it from leaving his lips, “Dean?”

Internally, he begged for Dean to open his emerald eyes. All of Dean’s humanity lived in his eyes, he couldn’t conjure up a false copy of them. If he opened his eyes, he was really alive.

His fingers stopped immediately like they knew that they had been caught. Castiel stared in disbelief, still pleading.

And then…Dean’s eyelids fluttered as if they were scared to open. Unconsciously, Cas wrapped his hand around Dean’s and melted as Dean’s curled around it.

Dean’s eyes flicked open, his warm green eyes drinking in Castiel. “Cas? Where am I?”

Castiel smiled brightly, his hand closely tied to Dean’s. “You’re home, Dean.”

A pit of uneasy filled him. He could have sworn Dean’s eyes were black when they first opened, if only for a single piece of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give me feedback! All are welcome :)


	8. Whatever You Say Louise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally done teasing :) 
> 
> Check me out on Tumblr https://baby1967impala.tumblr.com/

He knew he was dead. He felt the slicing pain of the knife. Death wasn’t instant, he bled out on the barn floor for what felt like a lifetime before darkness finally took over.

Dean had died before, more times than he can count. But this time was different, he wasn’t living in a peaceful loop of his greatest hits and he wasn’t hanging from rusty meathooks waiting for the next slice of a razor. No, he was in a hardware store kneeling next to a pale and dying Jo. The hell hounds had gotten to her while she was trying to save him. It was his fault, he could barely look her in the eyes.

He knew that Jo and Ellen were going to sacrifice themselves and it would be in vain. The mission was going to fail, and yet—Dean had no choice but to let them die. The warnings he tried to give didn’t leave his mouth. He was merely watching from inside his own head. Jo’s blood was on his fucking hands, literally.

But then, he was awake. Dean could feel the fabric of his blanket under his fingertips and he lightly moved to believe it. Everything about the memory had been so real.

He heard his name in a way that he had never heard before. It wasn’t gruff or stern. It was plagued with pain. There was a warm hand in his and he embraced it.

Dean slowly opened his eyes, doubting what was happening. Perhaps he was in Hell.

“Cas? Where am I?” He whispered, his throat was sandpaper.

Castiel smiled, his eyes dewey. “You’re home, Dean.”

It took one glance around to understand what he meant. It was his room. His guns lined the tan walls and his desk was a wreck and his duffle overflowing with flannel sat in the corner. But his eyes pulled back to his angel’s piercing blue eyes. They were magnetic.

Realization flooded through him as he took in the blood covering Cas. His lip was bloodied and his jaw was purple. The red spread down onto the front of his white shirt. “Why haven’t you healed yourself?” Dean gasped, quickly sitting up. He didn’t feel a single ache.

Cas reached out to steady him, his hands solid on his shoulders. “Dean! Don’t hurt yourself.”

Dean pulled up his blood-drenched shirt, revealing the scarred but healthy skin of his abdomen. There was no knife wound. “Apparently I’m fine. Unlike you. Why haven’t you healed yourself?”

The angel pulled back slightly, his hands falling away. “I forgot,” he said. His eyes didn’t leave Dean’s for one moment.

“Jesus, Cas. You forgot but you had time to fix me?” Dean grumbled before tearing his shirt off completely.

Cas averted his eyes as Dean got to his feet. “I’ll go get Sam and Jack,” he said timidly. Dean could tell from his voice that he was uneasy.

Dean turned to face him again, his hand resting lightly on Cas’s shoulder. “Wait,” he murmured, his hand finding its way to the side of Cas’s face. “Please heal yourself…now.”

Cas tore his gaze away from Dean’s. His eyes closing briefly as he felt the aches fade away and his wounds stitch themselves back together.

Dean licked his lips as he watched the split on the angel’s lip close. When Cas opened his eyes, Dean pulled him to his feet. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Cas’s brows furrowed together and Dean chuckled sweetly. “I never thought I would do this again.”

Dean closed the distance between them, capturing Castiel’s lips with his. Cas’s skin was hot against his, begging to be touched—so Dean obliged. He moved his hands from Cas’s face to the collar of his white dress shirt and ripped. The shirt split open, sending buttons scattering across the floor. “You needed a new one anyway,” Dean breathed.

Cas didn’t hesitate to help Dean remove the shirt from his body, his arms wrapping Dean’s neck. Cas’s mouth was messy and desperate, Dean knew it was because just like Dean, he thought he would never do this again.

Dean circled his arms around his angel’s waist and tugged him closer, their chests pressing together with every breath. His nails dug into Cas’s back. He slowly traced a finger down between Castiel’s shoulder blades and he received a shiver. Dean couldn’t see or feel his wings, but he knew they were there.

He teased his finger in that same spot, testing the waters. Cas’s mouth vibrated as he moaned silently at the feeling and Dean smiled into the kiss. Wings were a _very_ sensitive spot. Noted.

Dean knew that they probably should talk first but he couldn’t think about anything but the feel of his angel pressed against him, and he was desperate. Call it the Mark or him but he wanted Castiel then more than he had ever wanted anything.

Castiel must have been thinking the same thing. He tugged Dean closer to the bed, laying down as he had once before. Dean barely had time to protest at the broken contact before Cas drew his face down to him.

Castiel kissed him deeply, sending vibrations through Dean. “I love you too,” Cas purred into Dean’s ear.

Paradise passed through Dean then. His only response was returning the kiss, grinding their hips together. Cas was hard too and Dean smiled to himself. His fingers drove into removing Cas’s pants, he looked up for permission and Cas replied with a nod.

Want surged through Dean as he dragged Cas’s pants and underwear off his legs. The angel was completely exposed before him and Dean had no choice but to drink him in. He ran his hands across Castiel’s smooth chest, circling his finger around his navel causing him to squirm. Dean leaned down and traced his tongue across a nipple, sending a shudder through the angel.

A piece of blue caught Dean’s eye. Cas’s tie was stuffed inside the pocket of the trench coat. Dean barely had to reach out his hand to retrieve it. Castiel’s hands arms were above his head, entangled together. Dean smirked at his next thought.

He wove the tie between Cas’s wrists and knotted the ends together. _Kinky_ Dean thought. He placed a small kiss on his lips as he sat back up. He stood up, unbuckling his jeans, he gave a stern look to Cas, “Don’t move.”

Dean slid off his jeans along with his boxers and headed toward the door. He flipped the lock with a muted _click_. He turned to look at his angels spread out on his bed and fuck it was a perfect sight. Cas wasn’t looking at Dean’s face but farther down, taking in the view of Dean’s swollen length. Dean saw him suck in a heavy breath.

Dean climbed between his angel’s legs, kissing the sides of his knees as he set them on his shoulders. “Tell me if you want to stop,” he murmured against the skin of his leg.

Green met blue, both tinged with want and love. Dean nipped at the skin of his inner thigh and laughed at the little sound Cas made in response.

Dean wasn’t an expert in anything that he was doing. He’d never touched anyone like this. He had sex before, but this wasn’t that. This was intimate and perfect.

He slowly put his fingers in his mouth, coating them. He didn’t have any lube handy. He nudged Cas’s legs a little higher.

Cas gasped as Dean’s wet finger caressed his entrance. He took his time circling the ring of muscle, he didn’t want to rush Cas into anything. It wasn’t until Cas let out a needy moan and pushed his ass down to increase the pressure that Dean slid the tip of his finger inside.

This elicited a shaky breath from Castiel and Dean went motionless. “Cas, are you okay?” He questioned, preparing to remove his finger.

Cas nodded frantically. “Yes. Keep going.”

Dean worked his finger inside, curling the tip slightly. Cas squirmed, his cock was already leaking pre-come and Dean wondered if Cas had ever felt this way before. Dean let some spit dribble down to his fingers before sliding in a second finger. Castiel arched his back, forcing the digits deeper. Dean’s fingertip grazed against something, causing Cas’s hips to involuntarily buck forward, Dean’s name spilling out of his mouth.

He scissored his fingers, grazing the sweet spot again, only to hear his name again. He curled his fingers again, reveling in the sight of his angel arching off the bed.

Carefully, he added the third finger, spreading him open. He worked his fingers inside him until Cas was stretched enough to take him without pain.

He shifted closer to Cas, aligning himself with the angel’s entrance. He gathered a generous amount of spit in his mouth and let it drip down on his swollen and desperate cock, stroking himself to spread it.

Dean edged himself inside, pushing past the tight ring. He bit his lip to keep from moaning. Cas was so tight, so perfect. Cas grunted, trying to push farther onto Dean, but Dean’s hand was solid against his pelvic bone. Dean wanted to be in control of this, he wanted to have all of Castiel.

He didn’t rush filling Castiel up to his hilt, he wanted Castiel to remember what it felt to be filled by Dean…Dean always would.

Slowly, he started to swivel his hips, moving inside Cas. Cas had adjusted by then, his breaths were needy and frantic. He pulled back until only his tip remained and gave Cas a quick thrust, exciting a loud moan from his angel’s lips. Fuck, Cas felt like Heaven.

Dean wrapped his hands around Cas’s thighs as he began thrusting with rhythm. Cas arched again, his eyes closing and head tipped back.

In response Dean gave a powerful thrust, slamming harshly into Cas, forcing Dean’s name from him. “Keep those pretty blue eyes open while I’m fucking you,” He growled, giving another thrust.

Dean continued to hit that special spot and Dean saw Castiel’s breathing becoming uneven, he was close. So, Dean continued to pound, hard and ruthless. He could feel the heat pooling inside his stomach, he was getting close…really close.

Cas shouted a strangled version of Dean’s name as he clenched around him, white spilling all over his bare stomach. It was the sound of his name and the image of Cas twitching in ecstasy that sent Dean flying off the edge. He didn’t even have time to pull out before he was shooting come inside his angel.

Dean seemed to float, his entire being at peace in those seconds. He pulled out, plucking a dirty shirt from the floor and wiping the mess off Cas. He leaned down and planted his lips against Castiel’s as he unknotted the tie from around his wrists.

“You’re beautiful,” Cas whispered, drawing his finger across a string of Dean’s freckles.

Dean felt the blood rush into his cheeks, he curled beside Cas. He pulled the light blanket over them before propping himself up with his elbow.

“Whatever you say, Louise.”


End file.
